LotS Fic: The Wanting Of You
Title: The Wanting of You
Author: TheDawn
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: R (for sexytiems)
Warnings: Angsty. Very angsty.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, there would be lots moar sexytiems. Unfortunately for us all, they are owned by much luckier, wealthier people who are also too blind to see the awesomeness they possess. Title (and plot, sorta) is taken from a Melissa Etheridge song of the same name.
Author's Notes: The fic was inspired by a song off of Melissa's new CD, “Fearless Love”. When I heard “The Wanting of You”, I - being the dork that I am - immediately contrived in my head a way to make it apply to my favorite fantasy couple. Thus, here we have the quick 'n dirty version of:
The Wanting of You
This is wrong.
Kahlan knows it. Her children - Richard's children - are asleep just down the hall, dreaming sweet little girl dreams. Richard - her husband - is off on another quest, recruiting soldiers to fight for the Midlands against Darken Rahl's ever growing army, secure in the knowledge that his family is being protected not only by the strength of the Home Guard, but also by a woman he considers one of his closest friends.
She's fairly certain he wouldn't feel very friendly if he knew what Cara's “protection” currently entailed.
She also can't find it in herself to particularly care, which may or may not be a problem - she'll have to decide later, when Cara's mouth is not ravaging her neck, and Cara's hands are not clutching at her hips in a desperate attempt to get closer than the laws of physics allow.
It's not as though this happens all the time. It's been years since she's caved in to her desire this way, since that one wild night in the grove of the night wisps after her eldest was born, and really, there were extenuating circumstances. The wisps had a way of making it impossible to deny your innermost feelings, so Kahlan couldn't have been expected to resist. Especially not with the way the wisps' glow softened the Mord-Sith's features, or the impossibly gentle way Cara had tucked little Sonia in among the roots at the base of the strongest, oldest tree in the grove. The naked emotion shining in Cara's eyes had shattered the last bit of resolve Kahlan had, and all the reasons she had listed to herself - on an almost daily basis - for why this was not allowed to happen seemed to flutter away with the gentle breeze. She still wasn't convinced that the wisps hadn't done something. The extent of their magic was still largely unknown.
Granted, that reasoning won't work in her current situation. But reason has no place here, now. Not with her own hands tangled in long blonde hair, and Cara's hungry moan resonating somewhere low in Kahlan's belly as she is lifted and unceremoniously deposited on her desk. Varied treaties and proposals flutter to the floor, unnoticed, as Cara moves between her spread thighs, pressing into Kahlan as hands drift from her hips down the length of her thighs.
Kahlan tries to feel guilty, really she does, but Cara's hands are sliding up under her skirt, the flowing white material bunching up toward her waist, and Cara's mouth is trailing wet lines across her chest, and she honestly can't feel anything but how good this is. Besides, there are more important things to focus on, like untying the laces at Cara's hips, slipping her hands under the brown leather (the color was about the only compromise the Mord-Sith had been willing to make with her attire), mapping the warm skin of the blonde's sides and abdomen.
Cara's nimble fingers push aside her undergarments, sliding impatiently through her wetness, and Kahlan's hands tighten, her nails dragging harsh red lines across Cara's back. The blonde's answering growl is swallowed by Kahlan's gasp as two fingers slide into her, filling her in ways that go dangerously beyond the physical.
For a time, Kahlan is lost in the thrusting of fingers, the wet heat of Cara's lips and teeth on her straining breasts. It takes all of her self-control to come back to reality enough to battle with Cara's leathers, her own fingers slamming hard into the blonde as her other hand clutches at the back of Cara's head, guiding their lips back together.
She knows Cara will not allow this if she finishes first; the satisfaction of bringing Kahlan release will clear enough of the fog from her mind to remind her of her duties, and this precious time will end. She needs this to last, needs to have something to cling to when Cara retreats to her own quarters, and she is left to face the night alone in her marriage bed.
It's by unspoken agreement that they do not move to the bed, do not undress one another further. Even consumed by the raging fires of passion, they both have too much respect for Richard to step over that line. They tell themselves this is about need, basic human desire, and to call it what it is - making love - would raise issues neither is in any position to address. Instead, they lose themselves in the sheer unrestrained lust of the moment, fingers and hips thrusting in unison as lips and tongues communicate everything that will inevitably remain unspoken.
Kahlan can feel the pressure building, her stomach clenching as she tears her lips from Cara's in a regrettable need to breathe. Cara's fingers curl inside her, shattering the last vestige of control over her magic. She gasps soundlessly into Cara's neck as the power floods her body, racing through her blood and slamming into the other woman.
The effects of the magic, coupled with Kahlan's still-moving fingers inside of her, send Cara tumbling over the edge, collapsing against the Confessor as her body is wracked with spasms. Kahlan clutches at Cara's shoulder with her free hand, the hot pulsing around her fingers prolonging her own release.
Long moments pass, and gradually the shaking subsides. Kahlan's forehead rests in the curve of Cara's neck, savoring the scent of sweat and sex as she reluctantly slides her fingers from Cara's warmth. The blonde responds in kind, leaving her with an empty ache, an old wound torn open anew. Cara is not confessed; the possibility hardly has a chance to flicker through Kahlan's mind before it is discarded, and this is the biggest lie, both of them ignoring the reason Cara is not now bent to her will.
Cara starts to come back to herself, and Kahlan feels it in the stiffening of her body, the clench of the woman's jaw against her cheek. Desperately, she clutches the blonde's shoulders, sliding off of the desk to her feet in order to fully embrace her. Cara allows the contact, her own heart breaking as she can't help but return the embrace.
But Cara is the strong one, the protector - even when it means protecting Kahlan from herself. The longer she stands here - tears sliding down her chest, feeling the Confessor's heart beat in time with her own - the harder it will be to stop. It would be far too easy to give in, to allow that spark of hope to take control of her traitorous heart. And so Cara removes her hands from Kahlan's hips, reaching up to gently pry the hands from her shoulders.
Her gaze locks onto watery cerulean eyes, trying to convey everything neither of them will say. She stopped convincing herself that Kahlan could not read her years ago, and she uses that now, their hands still joined as a lifetime of words passes silently between them.
Slowly, with an effort painful in its intensity, Cara steps away, releasing Kahlan's hands. Kahlan remains where she is standing, watching the emotions play out in the green eyes she knows so well. She calls on all the years of her training to compose her features, her soft nod communicating understanding, longing, regret, and the one thing neither woman dares put words to, even in thought: love.
Unable to maintain both the eye contact and her composure, Cara turns, sheer willpower forcing her feet to carry her out of the room when every fiber of her being is screaming for her to stay. Kahlan's gaze follows her until she is out of sight, and only when she is sure Cara is gone does Kahlan allow herself to sink to the floor, cradling her face in her hands as the tears come in earnest.
Elsewhere in the palace, Cara leans against the door to her own chambers and quietly breaks, finally allowing herself the weakness of shedding tears for everything that can never be.
end.
Author: TheDawn
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: R (for sexytiems)
Warnings: Angsty. Very angsty.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, there would be lots moar sexytiems. Unfortunately for us all, they are owned by much luckier, wealthier people who are also too blind to see the awesomeness they possess. Title (and plot, sorta) is taken from a Melissa Etheridge song of the same name.
Author's Notes: The fic was inspired by a song off of Melissa's new CD, “Fearless Love”. When I heard “The Wanting of You”, I - being the dork that I am - immediately contrived in my head a way to make it apply to my favorite fantasy couple. Thus, here we have the quick 'n dirty version of:
The Wanting of You
This is wrong.
Kahlan knows it. Her children - Richard's children - are asleep just down the hall, dreaming sweet little girl dreams. Richard - her husband - is off on another quest, recruiting soldiers to fight for the Midlands against Darken Rahl's ever growing army, secure in the knowledge that his family is being protected not only by the strength of the Home Guard, but also by a woman he considers one of his closest friends.
She's fairly certain he wouldn't feel very friendly if he knew what Cara's “protection” currently entailed.
She also can't find it in herself to particularly care, which may or may not be a problem - she'll have to decide later, when Cara's mouth is not ravaging her neck, and Cara's hands are not clutching at her hips in a desperate attempt to get closer than the laws of physics allow.
It's not as though this happens all the time. It's been years since she's caved in to her desire this way, since that one wild night in the grove of the night wisps after her eldest was born, and really, there were extenuating circumstances. The wisps had a way of making it impossible to deny your innermost feelings, so Kahlan couldn't have been expected to resist. Especially not with the way the wisps' glow softened the Mord-Sith's features, or the impossibly gentle way Cara had tucked little Sonia in among the roots at the base of the strongest, oldest tree in the grove. The naked emotion shining in Cara's eyes had shattered the last bit of resolve Kahlan had, and all the reasons she had listed to herself - on an almost daily basis - for why this was not allowed to happen seemed to flutter away with the gentle breeze. She still wasn't convinced that the wisps hadn't done something. The extent of their magic was still largely unknown.
Granted, that reasoning won't work in her current situation. But reason has no place here, now. Not with her own hands tangled in long blonde hair, and Cara's hungry moan resonating somewhere low in Kahlan's belly as she is lifted and unceremoniously deposited on her desk. Varied treaties and proposals flutter to the floor, unnoticed, as Cara moves between her spread thighs, pressing into Kahlan as hands drift from her hips down the length of her thighs.
Kahlan tries to feel guilty, really she does, but Cara's hands are sliding up under her skirt, the flowing white material bunching up toward her waist, and Cara's mouth is trailing wet lines across her chest, and she honestly can't feel anything but how good this is. Besides, there are more important things to focus on, like untying the laces at Cara's hips, slipping her hands under the brown leather (the color was about the only compromise the Mord-Sith had been willing to make with her attire), mapping the warm skin of the blonde's sides and abdomen.
Cara's nimble fingers push aside her undergarments, sliding impatiently through her wetness, and Kahlan's hands tighten, her nails dragging harsh red lines across Cara's back. The blonde's answering growl is swallowed by Kahlan's gasp as two fingers slide into her, filling her in ways that go dangerously beyond the physical.
For a time, Kahlan is lost in the thrusting of fingers, the wet heat of Cara's lips and teeth on her straining breasts. It takes all of her self-control to come back to reality enough to battle with Cara's leathers, her own fingers slamming hard into the blonde as her other hand clutches at the back of Cara's head, guiding their lips back together.
She knows Cara will not allow this if she finishes first; the satisfaction of bringing Kahlan release will clear enough of the fog from her mind to remind her of her duties, and this precious time will end. She needs this to last, needs to have something to cling to when Cara retreats to her own quarters, and she is left to face the night alone in her marriage bed.
It's by unspoken agreement that they do not move to the bed, do not undress one another further. Even consumed by the raging fires of passion, they both have too much respect for Richard to step over that line. They tell themselves this is about need, basic human desire, and to call it what it is - making love - would raise issues neither is in any position to address. Instead, they lose themselves in the sheer unrestrained lust of the moment, fingers and hips thrusting in unison as lips and tongues communicate everything that will inevitably remain unspoken.
Kahlan can feel the pressure building, her stomach clenching as she tears her lips from Cara's in a regrettable need to breathe. Cara's fingers curl inside her, shattering the last vestige of control over her magic. She gasps soundlessly into Cara's neck as the power floods her body, racing through her blood and slamming into the other woman.
The effects of the magic, coupled with Kahlan's still-moving fingers inside of her, send Cara tumbling over the edge, collapsing against the Confessor as her body is wracked with spasms. Kahlan clutches at Cara's shoulder with her free hand, the hot pulsing around her fingers prolonging her own release.
Long moments pass, and gradually the shaking subsides. Kahlan's forehead rests in the curve of Cara's neck, savoring the scent of sweat and sex as she reluctantly slides her fingers from Cara's warmth. The blonde responds in kind, leaving her with an empty ache, an old wound torn open anew. Cara is not confessed; the possibility hardly has a chance to flicker through Kahlan's mind before it is discarded, and this is the biggest lie, both of them ignoring the reason Cara is not now bent to her will.
Cara starts to come back to herself, and Kahlan feels it in the stiffening of her body, the clench of the woman's jaw against her cheek. Desperately, she clutches the blonde's shoulders, sliding off of the desk to her feet in order to fully embrace her. Cara allows the contact, her own heart breaking as she can't help but return the embrace.
But Cara is the strong one, the protector - even when it means protecting Kahlan from herself. The longer she stands here - tears sliding down her chest, feeling the Confessor's heart beat in time with her own - the harder it will be to stop. It would be far too easy to give in, to allow that spark of hope to take control of her traitorous heart. And so Cara removes her hands from Kahlan's hips, reaching up to gently pry the hands from her shoulders.
Her gaze locks onto watery cerulean eyes, trying to convey everything neither of them will say. She stopped convincing herself that Kahlan could not read her years ago, and she uses that now, their hands still joined as a lifetime of words passes silently between them.
Slowly, with an effort painful in its intensity, Cara steps away, releasing Kahlan's hands. Kahlan remains where she is standing, watching the emotions play out in the green eyes she knows so well. She calls on all the years of her training to compose her features, her soft nod communicating understanding, longing, regret, and the one thing neither woman dares put words to, even in thought: love.
Unable to maintain both the eye contact and her composure, Cara turns, sheer willpower forcing her feet to carry her out of the room when every fiber of her being is screaming for her to stay. Kahlan's gaze follows her until she is out of sight, and only when she is sure Cara is gone does Kahlan allow herself to sink to the floor, cradling her face in her hands as the tears come in earnest.
Elsewhere in the palace, Cara leans against the door to her own chambers and quietly breaks, finally allowing herself the weakness of shedding tears for everything that can never be.
end.